


A Different Sort of Life

by probablyferal



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alliance, Death Knight, F/M, Fluff, Horde, I left it out intentionally, It's a first work, One Shot, Priest, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Sorry Not Sorry, a lot of fluff, don't judge me too harshly, holy priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablyferal/pseuds/probablyferal
Summary: The Legion ravages all it touches. In war there is death, and the acceptance that you cannot change the past. But, futures are much trickier. Hold close the ones you love, even if you feel undeserving.





	A Different Sort of Life

The Legion took a lot from the people, the lands, the world, the souls of everyone and thing they touched. Each person had a story of how they were affected, from the lowest street urchin to the War Chief and King of Stormwind. Maybe when it all had started, there was less to lose, but now it seemed there was light at the end of the tunnel, the final push to the end. It was all about to be worth it, and maybe then, then there would be rest.

But, in undeath, there was no such thing as rest. No sleep, nor food, nor drink helped the unease. The fellow knights of the Ebon Blade all experienced the same – the newer knights seemed less unaccustomed to it, and the strongest tried their best to pretend it simply didn’t affect them. Eventually, you learned to ignore it. Learned it wasn’t worth the time to give in, there was no pleasure in the physical anymore. So, each and everyone of them told themselves.

And yet, he stood entwined with the priest, his priest. Jilted lovers, complete opposites – one of fairness and light. The other in undeath and darkness. Cold, always cold, and here she was, warmth against him, feverishly trying to brush hands and lips against him.

In life he had admired the priesthood from afar, and in life he had avoided them, feeling never good enough to reach out and touch these creatures so in tune with the Light. He recognized her from the priesthood, he admired her. On the highest pedestal, gracing the people with her blessings.

In death, she had sought him. At first, only mere assignments, to keep them alive, or rather, keep him from a second death and the rest of their company alive. In a way, the Light was far from where he was, almost stinging in it’s use on him. He was certain it was pity that kept her so close, until an incident in Stormheim.

And so, they continued their elicit meetings, far from the disapproving eyes of the masses. Never in Dalaran, never where they could be seen. Neither the Ebon Blade, nor those from the Netherlight would understand. He didn’t even understand. But at some point when she was fast asleep against him, he swore up and down he’d end the Legion, if only to see her at peace. Counting her breaths, watching her stilled form. He’d die again just to relive these moments. 

Life was so close, he could touch it. Only in these moments.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very willing to flesh this out, if people like the idea. I daydream far too much, so I have plenty of time and ideas, trust me on that one. Please, let me know! And thank you for reading!


End file.
